


we are the champions (of the world)

by greenurr



Series: Different Strokes 'verse [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Nastya Ovechkina/Liza Berg, Multi, Polyamory, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenurr/pseuds/greenurr
Summary: Alex turned around, and Nicklas Backstrom was standing in his kitchen, staring at him. But not the Nicklas Backstrom he had just won the Cup with, the Nicklas Backstrom he had been drinking and celebrating with for the last few days. This Nicklas Backstrom had worse hair, and more chub around his face. This Nicklas Backstrom, he realized with a start, was the Nicklas Backstrom he had announced as a draft pick twelve years ago.“You have a beard now,” said this Nicke, in a heavy Swedish accent. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it.”





	we are the champions (of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> This is RPF! It includes fictional scenarios of real people having sex with other real people! If you don't like that, this may not be the fic for you.
> 
> I began writing this the day after the Capitals won the Cup because a) I was so excited I just had to do something and b) I saw a twitter thread about how sad and alone Alex was his first few seasons without Nicke and I was like "I must fix this... with time travel??" So that's what I did. Enjoy!

Alex was puttering around before bed, two days after they won the Cup, when he felt someone watching him.

He had been going for give or take 48 hours now. The adrenaline rush from after the game had pushed him through clubbing all night, then the Nationals game in the morning, and he remembered something about a fountain, and TJ drinking a shot through a t-shirt like a frat boy. His arms hurt from hoisting the Cup above his head. Nastya had already headed upstairs, to brush her teeth and do special pregnant woman things, like rubbing various lotions on her stomach and taking many, many vitamins. No one else was in the house.

He turned around, and Nicklas Backstrom was standing in his kitchen, staring at him. But not the Nicklas Backstrom he had just won the Cup with, the Nicklas Backstrom he had been drinking and celebrating with for the last few days. This Nicklas Backstrom had worse hair, and more chub around his face. This Nicklas Backstrom, he realized with a start, was the Nicklas Backstrom he had announced as a draft pick twelve years ago.

“You have a beard now,” said this Nicke, in a heavy Swedish accent. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it.”

Alex put a hand up to his chin, wounded. “Everyone likes my beard.”

Nicke hummed noncommittally. Then his eye fell on the cup, propped up in a place of honor at the head of the kitchen table.

“We win the Cup?” he asked.

Alex nodded. Nicke’s face lit up in a big grin, one he had saw so much of in the past few days.

“What year is it?” Nicke asked.

“2018,” replied Alex. “Twelve years.”

Nicke narrowed his eyes, and hummed again.

“We should go talk to my wife,” said Alex.

He walked upstairs with Nicke following him. As he poked his head into the bedroom, Nastya, who was lying in bed, looked up from her phone and smiled.

“Sasha,” she said. “I was waiting for you to go to bed. I missed you these last few nights when you were gone. Do you want to bring the Cup upstairs to sleep with us?”

“Yes, I do,” said Alex. “But we have a little bit of a problem.”

Alex gestured to Nicke, who poked his head into the doorway and sheepishly waved.

“Ah,” said Nastya. She tapped a few things on her phone, and it rang on speaker, once. Then Nicke, his Nicke, picked up.

“Hi Nicke,” said Nastya, in slow English. “Sasha wants talk to you.”

“Hi Nicke,” said Alex. “So, I have funny thing happen—”

“Yes,” said Nicke. “I know.”

“You know?”

“I know,” said Nicke. “Because you’ll never guess who just woke up both my kids.”

It only took one abashed, “Sorry!” in a heavy Russian accent to figure it out.

“You should probably come over here,” said Alex, sighing.

“I have two kids to put back to bed. You come over here.”

With that, Nicke hung up.

Alex turned to Nastya. “Well, we better head over there.”

“What’s this ‘we’?” asked Nastya, raising one perfect eyebrow. “I’m pregnant. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nasten’ka,” moaned Alex. “We’re married. We’re going to be parents. We have to face adversity together. It’s what the books say.”

“Nope,” she said, and pulled the string on her bedside lamp. The room was plunged into darkness. “Goodnight.”

Alex sighed, but still leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead. She turned, and found his mouth in the dark, giving him a sweet kiss. Then she pushed on his chest. “Go.”

As they walked out of the room, Nicke asked, “That your wife?”

Alex nodded.

“She very pretty,” Nicke said thoughtfully.

“Okay, we going,” said Alex, and grabbed his keys.

***

About ten minutes later, Alex found himself sitting on Nicke’s couch, staring himself in the face. Well, a younger him. A him from twelve years ago.

“You going gray, old man,” said young Alex, tugging at the grey hairs at the top of Alex’s head. Alex batted his hands away, and young Alex tried again. Alex hit him again. Young Alex hit him back. It quickly dissolved into a slap fight.

Both Nickes, at the other end of the couch, let out twin sighs.

“What are we going to do?” asked old Nicke. He was met with silence.

“Wait for it to go away?” offered Alex.

“Don’t know about that,” said young Nicke. “What if season start, and we still here?”

Old Nicke hummed in thought.

“Alex,” said Liza, coming in to stand in the doorframe. Both Alexes turned.

“Going to have to figure that out,” murmured young Nicke.

“Old Alex,” Liza clarified. “You want drink?”

Thirty minutes ago, if asked that question, Alex would have said he never wanted to see another drink in his life. Thirty minutes ago, his life had been a lot different.

“Yes, please,” he said.

Liza looked the four of them over. “I get everyone a beer.”

As she left, young Alex pointed at himself. “I be Sasha, because I’m most cute. Old man be Alex.”

Alex elbowed him hard in the side. Sasha just grinned.

“I guess I’ll be Nick,” said old Nicke. “Young guys on team call me that anyway.”

 Alex frowned. “I like calling you by sweet name,” he protested. He could see young Nicke raise an eyebrow. Old Nicke quirked a bit of a smile.

“You can live,” said Nick, and patted him on the knee.

“Where everyone stay tonight?” asked Nicke. “Maybe I supposed to stay with Alex, Sasha supposed to stay with Nicke? Or each stay with… himself?”

“I don’t know about ‘supposed,’” said Nick. “But Sasha not staying to wake up my kids again.”

“I say sorry,” Sasha whined.

“I take Sasha home,” said Alex, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m only one who can handle him.”

Sasha made an ill-attempted “rrowr” sound. Nick looked up towards the heavens, but Nicke actually caught himself in a laugh.

One beer and forty minutes later, Alex and Sasha headed out to the car. The four of them had spent a while talking it all over: what had happened, why it had happened, whether it was going to un-happen. Finally, Sasha had just shrugged his shoulders. “Magic of Cup,” he had offered, and as Alex watched a younger him climb into the passenger seat, he couldn’t help but agree.

It was a short ride, but by the time they got there, Sasha was already nodding off.

“One beer knocks you out?” asked Alex, undoing his seatbelt.

“No,” said Sasha, yawning. “Just tired. Working hard, you know.”

Alex thought back to where he was in 2006. “It was a tough season, huh?” he asked.

Sasha nodded. “It’s okay though,” he said. “I’ll just have to work harder next year.”

Alex, remembering games where he would play fifteen or even twenty minutes of hockey a night, frowned. When Sasha stumbled on the brick walk up to the house, Alex put an arm around him. He was skinnier than he should be, even post season.

“You’re okay,” he said, meaning it. It really was going to be okay one day, more than okay. It was just going to take a while.

The more they walked, the more brain dead Sasha became. In the dark quiet of the house, he moved nearly like a zombie, shuffling his feet and occasionally pinching at the bridge of his nose, like Alex knew he himself did when he had a bad headache. Alex practically had to steer him up the stairs. When he saw the bed, he smiled. For all her protestation, Nastya must have gotten back out of bed when they left, because the guest bed was all made up. There was even a little chocolate left on the pillow.

“You sit there,” said Alex, guiding Sasha to sit on the edge of the bed, then handing him the chocolate, patting his hand twice. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to his own bathroom and grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste, and then, with a second thought, filled up a glass of water and grabbed two painkillers.

“Here,” he said, handing the toothbrush and toothpaste to Sasha, setting the pills and water down on the bedside table. Sasha was still holding the chocolate in his hand, staring at that. “You can eat that, I promise it’s not poisoned. The bathroom’s through there. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then, just on instinct, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Sasha’s head, like his mom used to do when he was sick.

Sasha looked up at him and smiled a crinkly-eyed smile that Alex recognized so well. “Goodnight,” he said.

Alex brushed his own teeth in the dark, wincing as he knocked over a few of Nastya’s many beauty products lining the sink. She was a lump under the covers, and he climbed in behind her. She woke up, and turned her head to kiss him once, twice.

“Minty,” she said, and then pushed her ass back into him in a way he recognized.

“You want to?” he asked. She hummed. Together, they pushed her sleep shorts down off of her, and he rearranged his boxers just enough to free his cock. She slid a hand under her own knee and raised it up as much as her stomach would allow; he pressed in close and let her pillow her head on his arm as he pushed in. They both exhaled slow as he bottomed out, and he waited until she nodded her head to start gently rocking his hips. He reached down to rub slow circles on her clit, and she grabbed onto his arm. He closed his eyes, smelling the faint flowery smell of her hair and the even fainter smell of sex rising from beneath the blankets. He knew she came when she stopped breathing for a moment and squeezed his arm so hard her nails dug into the sensitive flesh of his inner wrist. He moved his hand up to her hip and squeezed, tried to kiss behind her ear and got a mouthful of long hair for the trouble. She giggled, then, and sighed.

“Sasha,” she said, softly, reaching back to card her fingers through his hair. He gave a punched out groan as he came, suddenly, squeezing her hip hard. They lied there, still, for a few moments, and then he leaned over and gave her a few slow kisses. He grabbed a few Kleenex from the box beside the bed and cleaned them both up. By the time he settled and kissed the back of her neck, he could tell from her breathing that she was asleep.

***

When Alex came downstairs in the morning, Sasha was in his trophy room, looking up at all of his things. He didn’t even turn when Alex walked in, just stared up as he asked, “Did you win all of these?”

“Yup,” said Alex. “You can win a lot of stuff in twelve years.”

“Yeah,” said Sasha, looking a little bit lost.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.” Alex crossed over the room to stand with Sasha, looking up at the stick he scored his 600th goal with.

“You think so?” Sasha asked.

Alex thought about it. “Well,” he said. “I don’t really know how time travel works. I never went forward in time, so I guess you’re not me, exactly. Or you’re me from another dimension, or another timeline. So I don’t know if you will.”

At Sasha’s crestfallen face, Alex quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “But don’t worry about me; I’m a stupid old man. I don’t know what I’m saying. Of course you’ll get it. I know you’ll get it.”

“I know too,” said Sasha, leaning into his hold. “It’s just… hard right now. To know. To believe.”

“Ah, Sanusha,” said Alex. “I know it’s hard. But you have the team, you know? It’s not all on you.”

“Isn’t it?” Sasha asked, a pain in his voice that made Alex hold him to his side even tighter. “Everyone wants me to do stuff, to be this thing—to be the _team_. I am the team. I mean who’s—it’s me. It’s just me. I’m practically all alone out there, and people, the media, they say things and I know I’m not supposed to listen, but I do, and everyone is counting on me, I have to be the one that makes us successful—”

“Hey, hey,” said Alex, softly. “Hey, it’s okay. I know it’s a lot of pressure. I know, I felt it, too. But I can promise you it gets better. The team, the coaches, the management, even the media—it all gets better. It takes time—it takes a long time. I’m not going to lie to you. It takes a long time. But things improve, and then, you know, Nicke comes, and things get… I mean, they get so much better. So much better.” He stopped talking, swallowed through a lump in his throat.

“He’s gonna stay in Sweden for another year, though.”

“I know, baby. It’s hard. You just have to wait, and work.”

“I don’t like that.” Sasha leaned his head on Alex’s shoulder.

“I know,” said Sasha. “I didn’t either.”

They stand there, in silence, looking over all of Alex’s achievements, neatly framed and stacked and hung up.

“Nick wants us to come over for breakfast,” said Sasha, eventually. “He said to bring the Cup.”

Alex threw his head back and laughed.

They did show up with the Cup, and Nastya in tow, cranky from being woken up. As soon as they get in, she made a beeline to the kitchen, where Liza was waiting with a freshly brewed mug of coffe just fresh from the coffee-maker. Nastya gave a big sniff, and then groaned in disappointment as Liza whisked it away and gave it to Alex.

“Pregnant ladies don’t get coffee,” scolded Liza, shaking a finger at Nastya.

“Liza, we need run away together,” Nastya said. “We leave men behind, open up a bed and breakfast.”

“You just say the word,” said Liza, smiling as she flipped an omelet. “I’m ready when you are.”

They had breakfast, a riotous affair with snippets of English, Russian, and Swedish all mixing together. After breakfast, the women slipped away to discuss woman things, like pregnancy yoga and world domination, and Alex and Sasha were conscripted to help Hayley with the extremely important task of organizing her toy cars, and Vince with his own quest to waddle perpetually around the diameter of the playroom.

Alex begged off after a while, to go run to the bathroom.

“Back soon?” asked Hayley, her round little face looking up at him.

“Yes, of course,” he said, touching her gently on the top of her head.

As he walked across the hall, though, he heard voices in the kitchen. Well, one voice, really. The same voice, coming from two different bodies.

“—just nervous, you know? I like Sweden. I feel… I…”

“You’re comfortable?” asked Nick, in a voice Alex recognized. It was a voice that talked rookies through breathing exercises before their first games, that was used with young children, that quietly comforted Alex in the dark, in bed, after a loss.

“Comfortable, yeah. And America, is big, is different… and my English not so… is why I want to practice with you. I know you not make fun of me.”

“Of course not.”

“So you think—is good idea? To stay in Sweden?” Nicke seemed painfully unsure, and Alex knew, for all Nicke put up a front, he was still just a kid. He still didn’t really know what he was doing, in some ways.

Alex heard Nick exhale, the creak of a chair, and imagined Nick leaning back, crossing his ankles and folding his hands in his lap like he did when he was about to say something thoughtful.

“I think… in some ways, is putting off the inevitable. You drafted. You gonna have to come to US sometime. To take an extra year… it’s not bad idea. I did. Worked out fine. But you need that year to work. Not just on hockey, but on everything. English. Media. Everything. Sasha need… right hand man. But need friend, also. You need to work, to be good friend to Sasha. He’s very alone, and every year you in Sweden, is another year Sasha alone.”

“You think is good I come now?”

“I not say that. Is important work. Is good you come… ready. Or as ready as possible for the NHL.”

“I stay then. For a year.”

“Okay,” said Nick, simply, and Ovi knew that that was all Nicke was going to get. But he knew, too, that it was all Nicke really needed. Nick didn’t do grand gestures, like Alex did. He would sit, and he would listen, and he would say a few words, and then he would say, “Okay”. And then it would be.

“You eavesdropping?” whispered a voice from behind him. He whipped around and saw Nastya, grinning. “Shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people!” hissed Alex.

“It’s fine,” said Nastya, dismissively, waving a hand. “What are they saying?”

Alex’s loyalty to Nick warred with his love of his wife and, more importantly, his love of gossip. “They’re talking about whether Nicke should come to the US,” he settled on, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a big decision,” nodded Nastya, drawing him away and back down the hallway. “2006 was a big year for the both of you.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“No, it was. I mean, didn’t you wish then you had older versions of you to tell you what to do?”

“But we’re not even telling them what to do. Nicke was going to stay in Sweden anyway, and I—I mean, Sasha was still just going to wait for him.”

“Yes, but just because you give someone advice they were already going to do doesn’t mean it isn’t helpful. It gives reassurance. Confidence. Comfort.”

“Comfort,” said Alex, thinking about his years on the Capitals without Nicke, alone. The life of a hockey player is never comfortable, physically, but all he remembers from those years is constant exhaustion, pain, a blur of desperation and disappointment. He would have killed for someone to lay a hand on his forehead and tell him to take a minute. That is was okay. That he could just sit, for a while, and they would take care of him. Someone to hold him, and not want anything he couldn’t give, just for a little while. Alex gave a slow exhale.

“My wife, how are you so smart?”

Nastya scrunched her face up, pleased. “Someone has to be. You take the boys, go home. Give each other some comfort.”

“What will you do?” he asked, tugging at the end of her ponytail.

“I’m gonna stay here with Liza.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. We’re going to talk.”

“Oh yeah? Talk? Do you think she’s going to give you some… comfort?”

They stared at each other. Nastya broke first, whipping around so she didn’t laugh, hitting him in the face with her hair in the process.

“I love you very much!” he said, as she strode down the hallway.

“I love you too,” she said, turning around the corner and into the playroom. A moment later, a nervous Sasha emerged. Alex put a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, and he could feel Sasha’s knees almost buckle.

“Nastya said it was time for us to go home?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah, we’re going to bring the Nickes, too,” said Alex. “Liza and Nastya are going to stay here, with the kids.”

He could almost see Sasha let go of the breath he was holding with relief.

“You know you’re going to have to stop being scared of her one day,” said Alex. “You are going to marry her.”

“Have you stopped being scared of her?” asked Sasha.

Alex found he really couldn’t answer that.

***

Alex hadn’t really planned specifics of how “comfort” was going to be achieved until he found himself coaching Nicke through sucking—well, not his own dick, but an identical dick that was twelve years older and had a lot more familiarity with Alex’s mouth.

Nicke was sitting shirtless on the guest bed, with his erection tenting his pants and his hair held in Nick’s firm grip, who was, in turn, fully naked and slowly feeding his cock into his younger self’s mouth. Alex was sitting next to Nicke, with an arm around him, shirtless as well, whispering into his ear. Sasha was the only one fully clothed, kneeling, with his head in Alex’s lap and his eyes fixed to Nicke’s face.

“That’s it, babes,” said Alex. “Good. I know is a lot, first time. But you doing good. Right, Nick?”

Nick hummed, staring down at Nicke. He had one hand gathering Nicke’s hair at the back of his head, the other one skimming across Nicke’s shoulders, stroking his cheekbone, rubbing at the hinge of his jaw.

“He like when you suck, as you come up, yes—” Nicke’s eyelids fluttered as he drew up, and Nick pressed his lips together and gripped Nicke’s hair even harder, which is how Alex knew he liked it. Nick pulled Nicke all the way up and off his cock, adjusting his grip on his hair. Nicke’s mouth continued to hang open, and Nick put his thumb in his mouth, stroked it across his tongue few times to encourage Nicke to stick it out.

“You don’t like this, usually,” said Nick, slapping his cock down on Nicke’s tongue few times, then once across each cheek. Nicke flushed red. Nick smirked. “But I think you like from me. Put your hands on my thighs and take them off if you want me stop.”

With that, Nick grabbed his cock and fed it slowly into Nicke’s mouth again, but this time not stopping until it was nearly all the way in. Nicke choked once, twice, flitting frantic eyes across to Alex, up to Nick.

“You fine,” said Nick, smoothing Nicke’s hair back from his forehead. Nicke’s eyes fluttered closed. “You know what to do if you need to stop.” Nick began to slowly fuck Nicke’s face, drawing almost all the way out, then each time, pushing a little deeper. Nicke’s hands turned into claws a few times, scratching down Nick’s thighs, but he never removed them.

“You need to know,” said Nick, as he pushed back in. “Need to know what it’s like. If you want to hurt, need to know what it’s like to be hurt. Want to choke, need to know what it’s like to be choke. Need to work for it. Not right. Privilege.” He pulled fully out. “You want me to hit you?”

Alex didn’t know very much Swedish, but he knew that what Nicke gasped was “please”. Nick slapped him open-handed across the face.

Alex knew that Nick was attracted to pain in a way that he never was. He accepted pain as part of his job, but he didn’t enjoy it. Nick relished in it. Getting it, giving it. Nick loved it all. Nick loved to be balls deep in Alex’s ass and stop, just to spank his ass cherry red. Not just to feel Alex clench up around him, but to watch his handprints flash and fade away, to hear Alex’s choked off cries, to see the tears gathering in his eyes. To feel the sting in the palm of his own hand.

Nick never asked Alex to seriously hurt him. Whether he didn’t want it from him, or whether he knew Alex just wouldn’t be able to handle it, Alex didn’t know. Maybe both. So Nick dragged him around by the hair and bit his neck and twisted his nipples, and Alex sobbed and shouted and came. But every once in a while, Liza would join them, and she would handcuff Alex to a chair and kiss him on the cheek and make him watch. Make him watch as she beat Nick’s back with a riding crop until it was red turning purple. Make him watch as she ground Nick’s cock into the floor with her heel. Make him watch Nick come from that, and then make him watch Nick lick his own mess up off the floor. Then, she would put Nick to bed, and if she was really feeling kind, she would let Alex help.

Alex didn’t particularly like pain, but, well. Nick liked it. So Alex liked it. Alex didn’t particularly like bondage, but, well. Liza liked it. So Alex liked it. Alex didn’t particularly like Nastya asking him to just take care of her, to hold her down gently and tell her what to do, to take away her options and let her just not think for a while, but, well. Nastya liked it. So Alex liked it. He liked to do what he was asked to do, and he didn’t much care what it was.

“What you want me to do?” asked Sasha, inadvertently mirroring Alex’s own thoughts. “You want me to…?” He gestured to where Nicke had finally managed to get all of Nick down his throat, where Nick was wiping Nicke’s tears as they spilled down his cheeks.

“No,” said Alex, smiling down at Sasha. “You know what I want you to do?”

Sasha perked up. “What?”

Alex hoisted Sasha by his armpits and fell back onto the bed, dragging Sasha with him, on top of him.

“I just want you to kiss me,” Alex said, smiling up at Sasha. “That’s all, baby. Just kiss me.”

Sasha blinked. “I can do that,” he said.

And so they kissed. They kissed to the sound of Nicke’s choking, of Nick’s heavy breathing. They kissed as they took their clothes off, as they lined their cocks up and rubbed up against each other. They kissed as Alex grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and slid one, two, three fingers into Sasha, as Sasha squirmed and moaned. They kissed for a long time, until Nick gave one long, last, final groan, and then sighed.

“Good,” Nick said. “Alex?”

Alex broke off from Sasha. “You want Nicke to fuck you?”

Sasha’s eyes grew very wide, and he nodded.

“Good,” said Alex. “Nicke, come here.”

Alex rearranged Sasha so he lying on his belly on top of Alex, spreading his legs over Alex’s waist. Sasha squirmed, hiding his face in Alex’s neck.

“No, is okay,” said Alex. “Let them see.” He looked beyond Sasha’s broad back to the foot of the bed, where both Nick and Nicke were staring like they had gotten boarded into the walls and hit real hard in the head. Nicke crawled forward, slowly, running one hand up Sasha’s leg as he went. He pressed a kiss to the bottom of Sasha’s tailbone, spread his cheeks and gave one gentle kiss to his hole. Sasha started and gave a punched out groan.

“You like?” asked Nicke, shyly.

Sasha nodded his head, and then stuck his face back into Alex’s neck.

“Okay,” said Nicke, simply. “I do.”

As Sasha was squirming and whining on top of Alex, Nick dropped to the bed beside Alex. He was sweaty-faced and happy, like he was after they won a game or when he was particularly successful in making Alex hurt for him. He brought his face to Alex’s neck and began kissing it, gently, counterpoint to Sasha’s hot breaths and whines buried in the other side of Alex’s neck. Nick gave a sharp bite, and Alex started.

“You want me to do anything?” asked Nicke, gesturing to where Alex’s cock was still hard inside his shorts.

“No,” said Alex. “I’m fine, I wait.”

“Okay,” said Nick, and drew Alex’s earlobe into his mouth to bite it.

Nicke leaned back and wiped his mouth.

“Your fucking ass, Sasha,” he said, squeezing it hard. “Shit.”

“Is just hockey ass,” said Sasha, shyly.

“No, is special.” Nicke slid his cock along the crack of Sasha’s ass. “I fuck you? You want?”

“Yes, please. I want, please.”

Alex handed Nicke the bottle of lube. Nicke, after Sasha’s answer to his question, had seemed almost lost for a minute, shocked.

“Slick your cock,” said Alex. “And go slow.”

Nicke nodded, face suddenly serious. Alex knew this wouldn’t be the first time Sasha had ever taken a cock, but it would be the first time he had ever taken Nicke’s cock, and that was important. It had to be good. As Nick got back up to get behind Nicke, Alex smiled. Good thing they were there, to make sure everything went alright.

Together, the all flipped Sasha so he was lying on his back on top of Alex, his legs drawn up by Alex and held as Sasha reached up and behind him to grab onto Alex’s hair.

“Gray, old man,” said Sasha, softly, in Russian.

Alex flicked him on the leg.

Nick helped Nicke slick up his cock and line it up, and as he pushed in, all four of them groaned. Nicke bottomed out, panting. Sasha was staring up at him, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“I’m not, I’m not think I’m going to last,” said Nicke.

“You wait,” said Nick, grasping Sasha’s cock and stroking up once, slow. Sasha squirmed. “You wait until he’s done.”

“I, I can’t,” said Nicke, a drop of sweat sliding down his nose and dropping onto Sasha’s chest.

“You can,” said Nick. “You do. Work for it. Fuck him.”

Nicke started out slow, drawing in and out at a snails pace, but quickly sped up. Nick kept his hand on Sasha’s cock the whole time, clearly using the twelve years of experience he had had fucking Alex to make Sasha come as fast as possible.

Nick wasn’t entirely cruel. Just a little bit.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna come,” gasped Sasha, in Russian.

“That’s okay, baby,” Alex answered back. “You don’t have to wait. You can come.”

Sasha, almost like he had needed permission, arched his back hard and came. He came so hard some of it hit Alex in the cheek. Nicke only lasted a few moments longer before he, too, was coming.

Nicke dove forward to give Sasha a kiss. The moment that their lips met, Nick yelped as he suddenly fell through thin air and onto Alex’s chest.

They hadn’t disappeared with a poof, or a pop. They had just been there one moment, and the next, gone. The only proof was the crumpled up chocolate wrapper on the bedside table, the come on Alex’s cheek, and the phantom heat of two bodies that used to be there but were now gone.

“They just had to kiss?” asked Nick, sounded disgruntled, rolling off Alex and sitting up. “That’s it?”

Alex thought back to all of the events of the last few days, the talks they had had, the timing. “I think… kiss at the right moment. Kiss when they know that things are gonna be okay.”

Nick looked down at him. “Better than okay,” he said, and smiled.

“Better than okay,” echoed Alex.

Nick moved down to lie next to Alex again, propped up on an elbow above him.

“You my Nicke,” said Alex, stroking his thumb across Nicke’s cheek.

“I’m your Nicke,” said Nicke, agreeing. “And you my Sasha. Sashenka. You do such good job. Let me take care of you.”

Sasha nodded, closing his eyes and allowing himself to melt back into the mattress. Nicke reached to where the lube had been discarded on the comforter and soaked his hand, reaching down to grasp Sasha’s cock.

“You take care of all of us so good,” breathed Nicke, into his ear. “Sasha, Nicke, me. You make us all so happy, do exactly right for us. Sashenka, you so good.”

Sasha groaned, pushing his hips up into Nicke’s hand.

“You know what make me very happy?” asked Nicke, sweetly.

“What?” gasped Sasha.

“If you come,” said Nicke. “Come right now, Sasha. Come for me.”

Sasha could feel it building distantly in his balls, his lower stomach, even his inner thighs. But those words from Nicke made it all rush to the surface, making Sasha’s body shake and his eyes tear up as he came. Nicke licked them delicately away.

“I love you,” gasped Sasha, in the little Swedish he knew.

“I love you, too,” said Nicke, in Russian, stroking a hand over Sasha’s chest and inadvertently rubbing the come in. He grimaced. “You stay here,” he continued in English. “I clean you up.”

Sasha closed his eyes again, listening to the sounds of Nicke walking into the bathroom, wetting a cloth. He felt a warm, damp touch softly clean him up. He was slipping in and out of sleep when he heard another voice join in.

“…go back?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Kiss.”

He heard a woman’s laugh, deeply familiar.

“Romantic!”

He heard Nicke scoff.

“He okay?”

“Tired. Work hard.”

The woman hummed. “Here your… shorts?”

“Boxers. Those boxers, these shorts.”

“Boxers, shorts. Okay. I remember. You stay here?”

“No, have kids. You know.”

“Not yet.” She laughed.

“He be… good dad.”

“I know.”

“Yeah. You be good mom.”

The woman gave a little surprised sound of pleasure. Nicke laughed softly.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He heard a belt buckle clink.

“Okay, I go.”

“Bye-bye. See you soon.”

The sound of two kisses, one on each cheek, and then the door quietly shutting.

“Hi handsome,” said Nastya, coming to sit next to Alex, stroking his hair. “Do you want to take a nap here? I’m gonna make lunch, soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” Alex kissed the palm of her hand, sleepily.

“Okay. I’ll wake you up when it’s ready.”

“Nastya?” he asked, as she was almost out the door.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning back around. He looked at this person that he loved, one of the only three people on Earth who really knew him, the mother of his child, and Alex only wanted one thing.

“Will you bring the Cup up to nap with me?”

Nastya threw her head back and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


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